


Through Me The Way Among The People Lost

by cjmarlowe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, getting Dean back, journey through hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-04
Updated: 2008-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-19 19:54:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjmarlowe/pseuds/cjmarlowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam would give anything for his brother, but he doesn't know what that means until he's called upon to give it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through Me The Way Among The People Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Written post-season 3, with all associated divergences from future canon.

When Dean looked up at him and blinked, Sam's eyes were still shut too tightly to see.

In those first few quiet moments it wasn't a stretch yet to imagine Dean's heart was still beating, pumping blood through his veins and keeping him warm in Sam's arms. Sam couldn't open his eyes, he _couldn't_ , or he'd lose that last brittle illusion. His world had scaled down to just him and Dean, nothing outside of that mattered, and if he did more than just clutch him and _breathe_ he was going to lose it. Even breathing was almost too much.

How could Sam breathe anymore when his brother wasn't?

Then Dean moved, not a fluke of gravity but a twitch, and Sam's eyes snapped open.

"Dean?" he said, staring as the light came back into those eyes before clutching him, dragging him into his lap and gripping him to his chest. "Dean!"

"Damn, this would probably be more fun if you'd done it when I was in my _other_ meat suit," he drawled.

At first there was too much fear and rage and relief and confusion for that to trickle in, and it was a few long, still moments before Sam realized that whatever was talking to him, it wasn't Dean. He pushed the broken body away from him, scrambled to his feet, but he couldn't stop looking at Dean's wicked grin as whatever it was pushed himself up onto his elbows.

"What, don't you recognize me?" he said. "I'm hurt, Sam, I really am."

"Get the fuck out of my brother."

He was bone-tired but adrenaline made him sharp again, spotting the knife that he'd dropped on the floor and snatching it up before Dean could do more than smirk. It couldn't be Lilith, Sam had watched her flee, but he didn't know who else it could be. It didn't even matter. He already had an exorcism on his lips when Dean pushed himself to his feet.

"What are you going to do, kick me out?" he said. "Send me straight to hell like the last person who hung out in here? And here I thought you'd thank me for keeping your brother's body fresh while you went after him."

Sam hesitated. "Ruby?"

"You've got another demon friend who'd be sticking around for a chat?"

"You can't be Ruby," he said, knife clutched into his fist and pointed at Dean's chest. "Lilith sent you to hell."

"Oh, she _tried_ ," said Ruby, "but you stopped her from doing that, too. It was sweet, Sam. I didn't know you cared."

"I don't," said Sam, but the truth was he didn't understand what he'd done or what had just happened. It had all gone by so fast and Sam hadn't been thinking about anything other than Dean. "And you can't... that's _Dean_ , you can't just...."

"You'd better get used to it pretty quickly, Sam, if you want your brother to have a body to come back to," she said with Dean's mouth. "You think these things hold up very long on their own? A couple of days in hell and this body'll be pretty ripe."

Sam closed his eyes again and wiped his cheeks with the heels of his hands. Dean was gone, Lilith was still out there somewhere, and Ruby was walking around with Dean's face. Nothing the Trickster had put him through had prepared him for this, not enduring Dean's death a hundred times, not all those months without him. None of that was this, this moment, this disaster.

Sam trembled where he stood, full of rage and grief and unchecked desperation, and he couldn't have been ready for this, not if he'd had a decade to prepare.

The next thing he knew Dean was saying, "You're off your game, Sam," and dangling the knife from his fingertips before tucking it away where Sam couldn't reach it. No, not Dean. Ruby. "And your day's not over yet, not by a long shot."

"Fuck you," he said, spitting the words at her feet. If she hadn't been wearing Dean's battered face his fist would've already been tearing into her cheek. "What do you want?

"The same thing I always wanted. Which, if the two of you would ever _listen_ to me, I would already have."

"Lilith is gone."

"Lilith has gone to ground after that little stunt you pulled," she said, "but you're fooling yourself if you think she's _gone_. And if you want to get Dean back without anyone trying to keep you from the prize, now's the time. You don't want to leave him down there too long. Hell changes a guy."

Sam tried not to think about the ticking clock in the back of his head, counting the minutes Dean has already been there. He tried not to think about the promise he'd made, that Dean would never go to hell. He tried not to think about just how long his father had endured it before they'd opened the Devil's Gate and he'd clawed his way back out.

"Why should I trust you?"

"Because every time you don't, you fuck things up," she said. "But hey, if you want to spend the rest of your life without your brother, that's your choice to make. The only one who can take care of this is you, Sam."

She was talking to him like nothing was wrong, and all the while Dean's body still dripped blood from a dozen wounds. Sam couldn't tear his eyes from them, not even when Ruby finally noticed his horrified stare.

"Let's make a deal," she said. "I take care of this little issue, and you help me out with a little problem of my own."

"So you do want something." Something concrete, not the nebulous possibility of tracking Lilith down at some point in the future.

Ruby looked pointedly at the spot where her own body had been lying just a few minutes earlier; all that remained to show she'd been there at all was a faint smear of blood on the hardwood, next to the much larger smear of Dean.

"Can't leave anything unattended for even a minute around here," she said, crossing Dean's arms over his chest. "One of Lilith's friends probably wanted an easy way out of town. I want it back."

It might actually have been relief he felt, in the midst of the horror, hearing that she wasn't even going to try to claim to have taken over Dean's body for altruistic reasons. It almost made him trust her. And it was a deal that Sam could make without feeling like he was giving up something irreplaceable. They wanted the same thing in the end. She wanted her body back; Sam wanted her to have someplace else to go when Dean reclaimed his.

"And getting me into hell? Is that part of this package?"

"I've never known a family so damn eager to go to hell," she said. "It's not going to be easy."

"I didn't ask if it was going to be easy. I asked if you could do it."

"No," she said, and Sam felt cold all over. "But _you_ can. Now come on, we need to get out of here. We've got a long way to go before dawn."

:::

"Jesus Christ," said Bobby, staring at the pair of them like they'd just walked out of a flaming building without so much as a scorch mark. With the sprinklers off and the street deserted, the only sounds were Bobby's voice and a laugh track on a distant television, turned up far too loud. "I know the hellhounds came for you, Dean. Haven't you boys made enough deals?"

"I didn't--" started Sam, but Ruby interrupted.

"Nobody made any deals this time, and your boy Dean is still safe and sound in hell."

Sam couldn't get a word in edgewise before there was holy water splashing in Dean's face. Dean's eyes flashed an ugly black, and in all the years he'd known him Sam'd never seen quite that much hate in Bobby's face.

"Not this one," he said. "You can't have this one."

"Bobby, wait!" Sam got out finally. "Stop!"

Bobby looked at him in disbelief but he did stop. They all stopped, froze in place right there on the street, waiting for someone else to make the first move.

"I already know it's Ruby," Sam said finally, and even to him his voice sounded tired. Tired but not defeated. Dean was in hell and Sam knew damn well he was still fighting, so Sam was still fighting too. "Dean's gone."

Bobby nodded tightly, and grief flashed in his eyes only for a moment. There would be time enough for that later, that's what he'd always said. "It's over, then."

"It's not over," said Sam. "I'm going after him."

"Like hell you are, boy," said Bobby. "It's _hell_. You can't go after him. Do you think he would have wanted that? Do you think your _father_ would have wanted it?"

"Well, it's a Winchester tradition, isn't it?" said Sam. "We all go to hell sooner or later."

"And all of you seem to think sooner's better than later," said Bobby, looking away in disgust. "Is that why you let this demon take over Dean's body?"

Sam hadn't exactly let her, but he hadn't exactly stopped her either. "She's helped us before," he said. "She's offering to help me now."

"Help doesn't come without a price," he said, meeting Ruby's eyes. And unlike Sam, he didn't seem to see anything other than demon when he looked there. "I have no idea what you think you're going to do, but you're not doing it here and you're not doing it now."

"We don't have any time--"

"What are you doing to do, Sam? Stand in the middle of this street and _wish_ yourself to hell? And what about when you get there? I've already lost two of you and I'm damn well not going to let go of the third that easily."

"Ruby and I will--"

"Not be doing a damn thing until we get out of here. We'll go back to my place until we can figure this whole thing out. There's nothing left for us here."

While the neighborhood was still eerily deserted, Sam began to make out the sound of sirens in the distance, and the fragile peace they'd been taking advantage of couldn't last much longer.

"If we're heading for South Dakota then one of you'd better work some mojo and let me ride in one of your vehicles," said Ruby, "or Dean's body's getting left behind."

"You're sure as hell not getting in mine," said Bobby. Maybe he knew they needed Ruby, but when it came to demons Bobby had his limits, and taking a road trip with one seemed to be beyond them.

She just rolled Dean's eyes at him and turned to Sam. "You know you want to."

"You know I don't," he said, but he knew he'd be making a scratch in the sigil on the inside of the passenger side door when they reached the car, and he knew he'd be letting her ride, because that was Dean's body and everything was for Dean.

"We need her," he said to Bobby. "I'm getting him back."

"Sam...."

"I'm getting him back, Bobby, and either you're going to help me or you're not."

"You don't have a plan. You have no idea what you're getting into."

"Not yet," said Sam, his heart clenching so hard he thought for a moment it might burst. Hell might've been so close he could reach out and touch it, and Dean still felt a million miles away. "I don't know I'm doing it yet but I'll find a way."

"I know how to get you there," said Ruby.

" _Your_ way would have him never coming back," spat Bobby. "Sam, come on, we can talk about this when we get back home."

"We can talk about it all you like," said Sam, stalking off towards the cars and trusting the others would be right behind him, "but Dean's coming back."

And if it had to be Ruby's way, Sam was just that desperate now and nothing was stopping him this time.

:::

By the time they reached the outskirts of Sioux Falls it was almost noon, and Sam's body was telling him he could sleep for a week. He wasn't even sure he had the energy to get out of the car, but he still looked over at Dean's silent body and said, "We need to start right away."

"You're an idiot," said Ruby, and Sam's heart clenched again when he heard those words in Dean's voice, just like he had a hundred times before. "You can barely even remember your own name right now."

"I'm never going to forget who I am," said Sam, then yawned so wide he could've swallowed the steering wheel whole. It took Bobby rapping on the driver's side window to even motivate him to get his damn seatbelt off.

"Get your behind to bed," said Bobby when Sam opened the door. "You look like you haven't slept in a week."

"No," said Sam, his voice barely more than a mumble. "There's no time, we need to keep going."

"The only thing you need to be doing right now is getting some sleep before you kill yourself," said Bobby. "Get in the house, Sam. We'll sort things out after you get some rest."

"Dean's in hell."

"You think I don't know that?" said Bobby. "You think I don't care? But you can hardly stand up right now. You can't help him like this."

It killed Sam to agree, _killed_ him, but when he stumbled just getting out of the car he knew something had to give. "You don't have something I can take to--?"

"Get in the house," Bobby ordered him, "before I carry you in over my shoulder, and don't you think I can't do it."

Could and would, Sam had no doubt about that, and so with some effort he managed to drag his weary body up onto the porch and follow Bobby in the front door.

"So are you going to let me inside," said Ruby, "or do I get to spend the night with the dog?"

"The dog gets to come inside," said Bobby, and let the door slam shut behind Sam.

"Bobby, you can't--" said Sam, looking back over his shoulder. "She could leave. She could take Dean's body and we might never see it again."

"You think I didn't take care of that while I was waiting for you guys to show up?" said Bobby, flipping on the light and drawing back the dusty curtains so Sam could look outside. Sam didn't know what he was looking at at first until he saw the faint white line out past where he'd parked the Impala. Jesus, the whole damn place was one big devil's trap. "She won't be leaving the yard."

"She's going to be pissed off."

"She doesn't need to be happy," said Bobby, "she just needs to keep her word."

Bobby obviously didn't trust her to, but Sam knew they had a deal. And despite his deep-seated fears he knew she wouldn’t have taken off, devil's trap or none. They'd do something for her, and she'd do something for them, and long, painful experience had taught him that that was just how these things worked. There was no getting out of it now, for either of them.

"Bobby."

"Get to bed, Sam, and let me worry about what happens on my own property. I let her come this far, didn't I?"

Sam didn't have the energy to argue. He didn't even have the energy for stairs. He stumbled into the living room, brushed some books off the couch, and that was it, he was out until long past dark.

:::

Sam dreamed of fire and brimstone, black eyes and blacker smoke, and an endless road ahead of him on which he'd have to travel alone. He woke up furious, slamming his fist into a thrift store lamp that Bobby kept beside the sofa.

Bobby bandaged his bloody, trembling knuckles silently but Sam could feel the weight of his judgment. He just as silently accepted it and carried it with him as he stalked outside onto the porch. It was long past nightfall, the moon reflecting off the roof of the Impala, and there Dean stood, leaning against the driver's side door.

Sam opened his mouth to shout at him before he remembered it was Ruby.

"Go ahead, Sam," she said, reading it all over his face. "Say all the things to this face that you've been dying to."

Sam grit his teeth and clenched his fists by his sides, but the words were already coming. "You don't get to decide that my life is more important than yours!" he shouted at his brother's now-silent body. "You don't get to decide that! You're so god damn selfish, Dean! Did you think you were doing me a favor? You brought me back because _you wanted me_ and then you didn't stick around to enjoy it! You _know_ what this feels like and you _did it to me anyway_. You jerk. You jackass. You unbelievable _pussy_."

"Are you finished?"

"No," said Sam, then slammed his sore fist into one of the pillars of Bobby's porch. It was followed a moment later by his forehead, resting gently against the cool wood, the splinters and the chipping paint. "Yes."

"Feel better?"

"No," he said, and choked on the word.

He didn't look at her again as he turned tail and headed back into the house, letting the door slam behind him.

Bobby didn't say anything as Sam stalked by him, just narrowed his eyes and tracked his progress right until Sam was out of sight again. He showered, too hot, letting the water scald his back and shoulders, then put on the first clothes he found, the first clothes that weren't covered in something unspeakable. Every moment of it felt like wasted time and when he was finished, wet hair slicked back against his head, he set out for the front yard with a single-minded determination.

"A minute, Sam," said Bobby, stepping out in to the hallway and stopping Sam in his tracks.

"I need to do this," said Sam, trying to push past him. "You're not going to talk me out of it."

"You're as pig-headed as your father." Bobby shook his head in disgust and yanked Sam back with one fist. "I know I'm not going to talk you out of it, Sam," he said, and from the look in his eyes he knew he wasn't going to be able stop him in any other way either, "so I'd damn well better watch your back. Don't trust her with anything."

"She's helping me."

"If she's helping you, it's because she gets something out of it."

"Of course she does," said Sam. "She wants out of Dean and back into her own body again."

"You sure about that?" said Bobby. "Or is that just what she told you?"

"Look, I know you don't get something for nothing," said Sam, "especially something like _this_. I'm pretty sure as soon as we have Dean back she's going to be demanding we go after Lilith again. I know what's at stake. It's a deal I was ready to make, Bobby."

Bobby didn't like that, not one bit, but he didn't have to. Sam was going to do what Sam was going to do and all Bobby needed to do was help.

"I've been doing some research of my own," he said finally, "and I'm pretty sure I know what ritual we're going to need to use to get you there. You'll be on your own, Sam. You're asking me to send you to hell on a one-way ticket."

"I'll get back," said Sam. "I'll get us both back."

"Because you're psychic boy?" said Bobby. "You think that's enough?"

"Lilith was afraid of me," said Sam. "She tried to kill me, Bobby. She tried to kill me and she failed, and then she ran."

Lilith wasn't the only one who looked a little afraid of him but Bobby masked it quickly. It didn't even hurt; Sam needed that power to get Dean back again, and he wasn't sorry it was showing.

"You know Dean wanted you to go on hunting without him," Bobby said after a moment. "You know he wanted you to get on with your life."

Sam didn't even know how that was possible. He'd watched hellhounds tear his brother apart on the floor of a god damn breakfast room and he was supposed to leave that behind and just go on without him? If it took the rest of his life, Sam was going to do something about it, and at the pace he was going it was going to take a lot less time than that.

"This _is_ hunting," he said. "This is probably the biggest damn hunt I've ever been on, and I'm not throwing in the towel before I've given it an honest shot."

It wasn't what Dean had meant but it was also true, and it looked like Bobby was having a hard time arguing the point. Sam even thought he knew exactly what was going on in his head. Bobby was a practical man. He didn't want to lose Dean either, but he didn't want to get him back at the cost of Sam. It just wasn't his choice to make.

"You watch your back, Sam. You don't trust anyone."

Sam wasn't trusting her because he wanted to, he was trusting her because the clock had already run long past midnight and he wasn't seeing any other way. So he just nodded and trusted Bobby to understand.

"Go," said Bobby, finally unfisting Sam's shirt but leaving it wrinkled and askew. "If you're going to do this, let's get this done."

Sam accepted the uneasy truce for what it was. "Get some sleep, Bobby," he said. "I'll be fine for a few hours."

He would be fine for more than a few hours, but he knew a few hours were all Bobby would give himself. Bobby finally nodded and pushed past Sam's shoulder down towards his bedroom, and Sam paused only for a moment before heading back outside to put himself in Ruby's rough hands.

"Do you think you could toss me a pillow and blankets before you abandon me for the day again?" she said, once again lounging against the Impala. She'd changed her clothes, and it was on Sam's tongue to tell her to keep her god damn hands off Dean's stuff but the clothes she was wearing now weren't bloody. Which meant Dean's body wasn't bleeding. Which meant Sam kept his mouth shut. "You do want to keep this body in good shape, don't you?"

"Sure, fine, whatever," said Sam, pausing long enough to stretch his body to its full height, reaching up for the night sky. "Let's do this."

"Pushy, aren't you?" she said. "If you'd been this eager a couple of days ago, maybe you wouldn't be in this mess to begin with."

Sam wanted to throw a punch, even though that was Dean's face. Maybe especially with that face, because that should've been _Dean_ he was talking to, _Dean_ he was on the road with, _Dean_ at his side as he faced down the gates of hell.

"We don't time for this," he said tightly. "Tell me how to do it."

"Easy there, tiger, I can't just tell you what to do any more than I could last night. It's going to take a while."

"No longer than it has to," said Sam. "I'm ready to do whatever it takes."

"Are you?" she said, crossing her arms over her chest and pushing off the car to stalk forward. "Are you really?"

Sam didn't answer, putting his resolve in his face and footing. Whatever it took this time. _Whatever it took_. Whatever lesson Dean had learned from making his deal, Sam had carried on without Dean once before and he'd taken his own lesson from that: _never again_. Whatever it took this time, Dean was coming back.

"Well, let's see you put your money where your mouth is," she said. "Bring it on, Sam. I can take whatever you can throw at me."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's all there inside your head, all you have to do is let it out again. So come on. Bring it."

Sam clutched at the hair at the nape of his neck and tilted his head down and tried to do what he was asking her, but nothing came. Just the beginnings of a headache and a pinch where he was gripping his hair too tightly. He shook his head and looked up and she was supposed to be _helping_ , not making it all seem impossible.

"You really don't get it, do you? You can't do this if you don't admit you have a little demon in you, Sam. That's where it all comes from, and if you can't admit it then it's all over before we've even started." He pressed his lips tightly together, remained stoically silent, but there were cracks in his resolve and sooner or later he'd say anything. He'd do anything. "Aw, come on, if there's anyone you could admit it to it would be little old me right? Dean's got a little demon inside him right now too."

"Is it the only way?

"Well, I’m sure Dean might find his own way out if that works better for you," she said. "It'll only take a few centuries."

Sam twisted his lips to match the twist in his gut, then turned away from her. He could do this, he could be the thing that they hunted if he had to, but he couldn't do it to Dean's face.

"There's demon inside me," he said to the faded blue siding of Bobby's house.

"Kinky," said Ruby dryly.

Sam clenched and unclenched fists at his sides but he didn't rise to her bait. He stared at the wall until the urge to hurt her passed, following long gouges with his eyes, making out a decades-old set of initials scratched into the paint. The rage came easily these days, but it wouldn't get him what he wanted right now.

"So what now?" he said, finally turning around. "I admit it. I admit it all. The thing I've spent my life hunting was a part of me all along. What _now_?"

"Now you _use_ it, Sam. You used to know how."

"I never had to try before."

"Liar," she said easily. "Knock me over, Sam. Do your worst. Or maybe you don't want it enough."

He did knock her over, with a hard shove to Dean's shoulder right in what Sam knew was his weak spot, a scar that still hurt him when you hit it just right. She twisted as she fell and there was a sickening little splash of blood, and Sam remembered there were a whole lot of other weak spots now.

"That's great, Sam, but how about you try it with you _mind_ next time."

"I don't know _how_."

"It's _your_ head," she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist, split lip cracked open again. "Nobody knows what's inside your head better than you do. Do whatever you need to do to figure it out. Meditate, go for a run, get high, I don't care. Once you're open to the possibilities... well, you can go to hell, and I'll happily help you get there."

"If you're yanking my chain, so help me God I will end you," said Sam.

"I don't think God's going to help too much, but you're welcome to ask," said Ruby. "What's it going to be?"

There was no way in hell Sam was going to _meditate_ , or do anything that required him to be calm and still for that long, but he did turn back to the wall again, press both palms to it and bow his head and _breathe_. It was his head. It was his head and if he didn't know it inside out then he was going to lose Dean forever. It was _his head_. And if she told him to look inside it then he was going to look inside it as hard as he could, even if he didn't think he was going to like what he found in there.

"All right," he said, turning back a few minutes later, as calm as he was capable of being, "but we need to do this faster. Every day we're working on this is another day for Dean in hell."

"Actually, it's probably another month," said Ruby blithely, to Sam's ever-paling face. "Time's funny like that in hell. But that's not for you to worry your pretty little head about. If you want this to go faster then you have to stop fighting it."

"I'm not fighting it," said Sam. "I've never been fighting it."

"You've _always_ been fighting it," she said. "You've been fighting it since you were six months old. Hell, you humans are _wired_ to fight it, you don't even have to think about it. But if you want this to work, you have to give in to it."

"If I give in to it, I become just like--"

"Me?" finished Ruby. "You wish. You're still human, Sam, you're just _special_."

"I'm tired of being special."

"Fine," she said. "Then Dean can just stay in hell and you can go on with your not-special life."

"Damn you," he growled. " _Damn_ you."

"I was damned centuries before you were a glint in your daddy's eye," she said, meeting Sam's glare without flinching. "You've got demon blood in you, Sam, and if you can't face that and _use_ it, then we're done. Because there is _no other way_."

"I can't become that."

"You can, and you will," she said. "After that, it's up to you what you do with it. You closed the door on it once."

But Sam didn't know how he'd done that, and he didn't know if he would have the strength to do it again this time. The things he could do with that kind of power... he'd never lose Dean again. Never.

"It's your choice, Sam," she said, "but you need to _make_ it. The longer you wait, the longer your brother burns."

He looked at Dean's body in front of him and he could suddenly _see_ it, see his skin blackening, see his mouth open in a silent scream, still hoping help would come. Pain bloomed across the back of Sam's head and then Ruby was skidding across the ground away from him on her heels.

When she came to a stop she gave him a slow, frightening smile. "Well," she said. "It's a start."

:::

"She really put you through the wringer, didn't she?" said Bobby, giving a low whistle as he got a good look at Sam, stumbling out of the spare bedroom at dawn with just a couple of hours of sleep under his belt.

He dreamed of setting the world on fire, of unleashing earthquakes and tsunamis and erupting volcanoes, and when he woke up every book on the bookshelf had been scattered on the floor of the bedroom. He didn't remember doing it, and his head didn't hurt one bit.

"I need to get back at it," he said, bracing himself against the wall and rubbing his face with one hand. There was no time. No spare moments to sleep or eat or do anything but train his mind to get Dean back again.

The fact was that Sam _could_ do things if he tried hard enough, if he let the pressure in his brain build up until it had to get out. But no matter how much Ruby goaded him he wouldn't use it on his brother, didn't want to leave one single more mark on that body. Not that he was leaving many marks on anything else, or doing much more than make Bobby's shingles tremble like there was a light breeze. Even that little bit of progress was leaving him on his knees, holding his throbbing head.

It was mid-morning when he just got it, when exhaustion was starting to take hold again and Ruby was baiting him and he felt the pain spreading, and he finally _got it_ that it was hurting because somewhere in his head he was trying to hold the door shut at the same time as he was trying to let something out. Something snapped and he stopped holding it back, and all at once the half-crushed Camaro behind Ruby not only trembled but flipped right over and crashed into the blue sedan behind it.

Ruby looked at the car, then at him, then smiled a smile that had no business being on Dean's face.

" _Now_ we can finally get started," she said, "because telekinesis isn't exactly the ability we want to be developing here."

"Then why were we--?"

"Because it was something you knew," she said, "and you needed to find the path back to your abilities before you could try something else. What you need to learn now is a whole new ball game."

Sam didn't think he was going to like it, and he wasn't wrong. Because it wasn't just like giving in and admitting he had the power to do things, which in retrospect was the easy part. It was making the decision to draw himself closer to the demon world, to understand how it worked and understand why he was maybe the one living person who could go down there and then come back again under his own power.

He could do things Ruby couldn't. He could do things he wasn't sure anyone else could. And after a while he believed he could do this, he could survive hell on the strength of his own mind, but he also realized that no one could do it unscathed, not even him.

As far as Sam was concerned, though, there was no turning back. There never had been.

It became a lot more like training after that and a lot less like a battle of wills, hour after hour, repeating the same exercises over and over until he was sure he could do them in his sleep, and probably would be. It became a lot like all those evenings and weekends when he was a teenager, Dad off on a hunt and he and Dean practicing till they dropped so maybe they'd be useful to him on the next one.

It slipped out only once.

"Dean, wait," he said, leaning forward onto his knees to catch his breath. As soon as the words were out he looked up in horror and wished he could take them back.

Ruby tsked at him and threw him a bottle of water. "How quickly they forget."

Sam fled into the house and pressed his back against the front door and just breathed until he could get his shit together. Dean's _soul_ was at stake, and Sam couldn't afford to forget that for one moment. This wasn't a training exercise, this was _everything_.

Bobby left a couple of hours after dawn while Sam and Ruby were hard at it, said he had to hit his supplier for things they needed for the ritual, and when he came back at dusk he had Ruby - no, Ruby's former body - caught in a devil's trap in the bed of his truck.

"How--?" said Sam, abandoning Ruby by the shell of vehicle and staring at Bobby's cargo.

"Ruby told me where to find her while you were sleeping," said Bobby, though Sam figured there was more to it than that. Bobby wouldn't take Ruby's word that the sun was shining even if he was standing right outside beneath it. It hadn't been easy, Sam could see that for himself. Bobby had a black eye and Ruby's body didn't look so hot either. "That's your part of the deal, Sam. You'd better hope she keeps hers."

Sam didn't know how to thank him, but Bobby didn't look like he wanted thanks. He looked like he wanted some kind of reassurance that he already knew was never coming, reassurance that Sam was doing the right thing.

"You know getting you to hell's the easy part, right?" he added finally. "Getting into hell's a breeze. They _want_ you in hell. It's getting out that's going to be a problem."

"I'm working on it," said Sam. "You keep that crack in the world open and I'll claw my way back out. I have to."

"If you can't get out, there's no one going in after you, Sam. Do you get that?" said Bobby. "If you can't get out, we lose both of you."

"Better both than one," said Sam, and Bobby grabbed his shoulders, shook him hard.

"No, it's _not_ ," he said. "Why are all you Winchesters so hell-bent on self-destruction? It's _not_ better to lose all of you."

"You don't know what it was like, Bobby. You don't know what this world was like without him, you don't _remember_."

"I don't remember what exactly?"

"I lost him, Bobby. Dean died and six months - _six months_ \- I went on in the world without him. Six months I was on the road after Dean died, taking out everything in my path, turning into something I never want to be again."

Turning into something he was already becoming.

"Sam, that never happened--"

"It happened to _me_ ," he said. "It happened to me and I remember every minute of it, Bobby. And yeah, I got him back but I still _remember_ it, it only un-happened for everybody but me. I remember what it did to me and I can't go through that again. I won't survive it."

And now that Sam knew what he was capable of, the world might not survive it either.

Bobby didn't _know_ , but slowly he nodded and looked like he trusted what Sam was telling him even if he had no memory of any of it. "Just remember what you're getting into," he said, "and remember you've got people topside who're waiting for you."

Sam nodded and looked at Ruby. "I need to get back at it," he said. "There's no time... there's no time for _any_ thing else right now."

"I know, Sam," said Bobby with a heavy sigh. "I know."

:::

"I'm ready," said Sam the next time he woke up. He didn't know when that was, his sense of day and night and the passage of time skewed ever since the hellhounds had taken Dean, but he opened his eyes and dragged himself outside into some kind of daylight and knew it was time.

He didn't know if he was having visions again now that his abilities weren't dormant anymore, or if his nightmares had just been getting progressively worse, but he woke up vomiting and gasping for breath before he managed to get another couple of hours of uneasy sleep, and he couldn't wait anymore. He couldn't make Dean wait any longer.

"You're not ready."

"I have to be ready," he said. "Another day isn't going to make me stronger, it's just going to make both of us weaker. I need to be ready now."

Ruby lifted her chin, Dean's chin, and studied him. He didn't care what she saw, and he didn't care what she did. He had what he needed from her now, all she needed to do was stay put and wait for Dean to reclaim what was his.

"You have no idea what you're getting into," she said finally. "The only way you and anyone else is going to get back out is because you're not supposed to be there, Sam. That's the only thing you'll have going for you. If you forget that, if you forget that the power to get you and your brother back out again is _in your head_ , then you're both lost."

"I won't forget," he said. He could never forget.

"Hell makes you forget a lot of things," she said. "Hell makes you forget who you _are_."

"I won't. Forget."

"We'll see," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. Sam licked his lips and watched her, studied Dean's body and tilted his head to the side. "You have something you want to ask me?"

"How do I keep them from stopping me?" he said. "Lilith's not going to want to let him go."

"If you do it right, they won't notice you to stop you," said Ruby, "They're expecting you to go after the Colt, Sam. They think you want to reopen the Devil's Gate and hope that Dean's got the strength left to crawl back out himself once the door's open to him. By the time they realize you've gone straight to the source you'll already be there and gone."

"Would that have worked?"

"The Devil's Gate? It worked once before. You might remember; you were there."

"You said there was no other way," he blurted out. Finding the Colt, opening the Devil's Gate, that was _another way_.

"You couldn't even get the Colt back when Bela had it," she said. "It might've taken you years to track it and Lilith down, with no guarantee that you'd ever get it back. Years that Dean would be spending in hell. Does that sound like a better option to you?"

It didn't sound like any kind of option at all, so maybe it hadn't been a lie, not really. Waiting more than a few days wasn't really a way. The only way to do this was the path he was already on, and it was time Sam followed it down.

"Is that it?" Sam nodded and stared at his feet and didn't look up again. He'd be seeing the real Dean again soon; he didn't need to stare at this facsimile anymore, Dean's body but not Dean's soul. "Go get Bobby then, if it's time. He's insisting on doing the ritual himself."

Sam wasn't surprised, and couldn't say he blamed him. Bobby was just watching Sam's back, like he said he would. Making sure Ruby didn't pull anything on his watch. Sam found him in the kitchen, like he'd been anticipating Sam's arrival, and everything they needed was already laid out in front of him.

"I don't like this," he said.

"You perform rituals all the time," said Sam. "This isn't any different."

"Do you even know what we're _doing_ , Sam?" said Bobby. "It's practically an exorcism. We're targeting the demon in you and sending you to hell."

Sam had never cared enough to ask how it was going to be done; no matter what it was, it wasn't going to change his mind.

"If I didn't think you'd just go find someone who'd botch the whole thing, I wouldn't have any part of this," he said. "But remember this, Sam: if you don't come back I won't ever be able to forgive myself."

"We're coming back," said Sam. It was pointless for him to believe anything else.

"He's still going to be dying when you get him back," Bobby said after a minute, words they'd both been avoiding up till now. But at least he'd said 'when', and that was what Sam focused on. "That body's broken, Sam."

"Dying, but not dead," said Sam. "At least then we've got a chance. And if he doesn't make it--" Sam stopped, barred his thoughts from going down that road.

"If he doesn't make it, at least he'll be going to the other place," finished Bobby. "I think, after all these years and all those lives, Dean's life's balance pretty much tips to the side of good."

One day it was going to matter to Sam whether his own balance swung that way after all this or not, but right now he was beyond caring.

"Is this where we're doing it?"

"Outside," said Bobby, gathering up his things. "Ruby's not coming in this house again, Dean's body or not."

"All right," said Sam. "Let's go outside."

Bobby stopped him just for one more moment, one hand pressed against his chest. "I hope to hell you know what you're doing."

"It doesn't matter," said Sam. "I don't have a choice anymore."

"There's always a choice," he said, but he dropped his hand and nodded. He was never going to agree that this was a good idea, just like Sam was never going to agree that he was right.

"You watch her, Bobby," he said. "You watch her like a hawk."

"I don't need you to tell me to watch her, Sam, she's a god damn demon. I'd be crazy to let her out of my sight, especially when she's walking around looking like Dean."

"And keep her in there," said Sam, even though it physically hurt to say, a tight clench around his heart. "Without that body none of this is going to matter."

"I know that," said Bobby. "If you can trust anyone right now, Sam, you can trust me."

Sam closed his eyes and nodded his head and now he was ready. He was as ready as anyone could be when they were about to go to hell and expected to be able to come back up again.

"We'll be right here waiting when you get back," said Bobby, and that above all else was what Sam had to count on. The road ahead wasn't going to end when he got Dean back. "And Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Never, ever, forget that they're demons. Never forget that they're all demons down there. Don't trust anyone."

"I know, Bobby."

"And when you pull someone outta there, _make sure it's Dean_."

Sam would know Dean when he saw him, he would just _know_ , no matter what hell had done to him. No one wearing Dean's face would fool him, and he'd know Dean with any face.

There were four of them outside now but Sam only paid attention to one. There was the scent of copper and smoke in his nose, an eerie prickling in his skin, and the last thing Sam saw was the look on Bobby's face, spitting out that Latin that he never in a million years thought he'd be using on Sam.

:::

Hell was a desert just before dawn, scrub and grey light and silence.

"There's nobody here," said Sam, his voice too loud in the quiet, looking at the vast wasteland stretching out in all directions. There was nothing, nothing at all, as far as he could see.

"Apparently your hell is being alone," said a whisper on the wind. Sam whirled around in a circle but no one was there.

He wasn't alone, not if this really was hell. Somewhere in this vastness, no matter how calmly he'd faced his fate, his brother was waiting for him to come. He wasn't alone if there were voices speaking to him from the air. But knowing that wasn't going to help him find them.

He hadn't gone more than five steps before that same voice came again. "You're going the wrong way."

He whirled around again, but when you expected to see nothing you weren't disappointed when you did. "What way should I be going?" he asked, looking up at the bleak sky.

"Are you going to believe me if I tell you?"

No, he wasn't, and Sam started off in the same direction he'd already been going. Hell didn't want him to take Dean away, no matter what Ruby said. They weren't going to make it easy.

"You're not going to get anywhere on foot."

Sam's resolve was firm, but he couldn't ignore the voice speaking to him. The _only_ voice speaking to him. "Do you have a better idea?"

"Of course I do," she said, the voice coming from a different side this time, a real location in the space around him. "I know a lot of things."

"Who are you?" Sam still walked, still moved forward, or what he thought of as forward, towards a distant horizon. "What do you want?"

"It doesn't matter who I am," she said. "I want to help."

Sam would believe that one when hell froze over, and he was currently in a position to say it was showing no signs of doing that any time soon. "All right then," he scoffed. "Help. Tell me how to find other people." Other trapped souls, he meant, but they were _people_. Dean was still people.

"No one gets something for nothing," she said. This time Sam caught a glimpse of eyes, black and red eyes, fire and smoke. Only when she let that hang in the air between them did Sam actually believe that something more than aggravation was going to come of this meeting.

"What do you want?"

"What we all want," she said. "I want out of hell."

"I can't give you that."

"Of course you can," she said, her certainty making Sam uneasy. "You can get me out the same way you're getting yourself out, Sam Winchester. All it takes is a little... push. That shouldn't be difficult for someone like you."

 _If you pull someone out of there_ , Bobby had told him, _make sure it's Dean_. But Bobby didn't know what Sam was going to find down here, and what pieces he was going to have to sacrifice to get his brother back.

"Even if you get out of here," he said, "we'll hunt you down again."

"You can try. I'll have a head start."

She wasn't asking for protection. She wasn't asking for a promise. She was only asking for a chance at freedom. Sam knew they _would_ track her down again, knew they would send her back to hell, and the fact that they would be able to do it _together_ was what made him nod his head.

"Oh, I'm going to need more than that," she said. "I'm looking for a deal."

After this, thought Sam, closing his eyes for a moment, after this there would be no more deals. Not for any of them. Not ever.

"I'd kiss you," he said, "but I'd have to find you first."

"Your word will do," she said. "I show you how to get around hell, and you send me upstairs. Do we have a deal?"

Sam took two deep breaths then said, "In that order. First I see for myself that what you're telling me is true. _Then_ I send you back up the pipe. And you don't touch my body, or Dean's body, or Bobby's. You go someplace else."

Her eyes looked like fire, and the way she said "deal" positively shook him, but that was his bed and Sam knew that sooner or later he had to lie in it.

They had another god damn deal.

"What would be worse than nothing?" she said, finally resolving into a body in front of him, a female form with fiery eyes. "Would you say that watching people suffer and being unable to do anything about it would be worse than nothing?"

"Yes," said Sam, but nothing happened.

"You have to believe it," she said. "Your hell is nothing because _your hell is nothing_. Your hell is not finding Dean. Think of children in front of you with boiling skin, and you unable to touch the thing that did it. People suffering and you can't do a damn thing about it."

"I can--"

"What are you going to do, send them all back up? Into what, Sam? Do you want to unleash a whole new pack of vengeful spirits on the world? Are you _looking_ for more work?"

Sam pressed his lips together and started walking again, only to be stopped by a solid hand to his chest.

"This is hell," she said. "The form it takes is what you expect it to be. You can walk till the end of time and never get anywhere."

"How do I--?"

"There are worse things than being alone," she said again. "Picture them, Sam. Shape your hell into something worse."

His gut crawled at the idea of delving into his deepest fears, his darkest visions, but for Dean he did it. Hell wasn't being alone forever. Sam had already been there, and survived it. Hell was--

He opened his eyes again into darkness, the sounds of children screaming around him. He covered his ears with both hands but it didn't quiet anything.

"This isn't--"

"This is what you asked for," she said. "You wanted to find the other lost souls of hell, and here you are. It's not my fault if you can't handle it. If you want to unchain your brother from hell, this is what you have to go through to do it."

"I can handle it," said Sam, gritting his teeth against the horrors.

Her smile was chilling, but she didn't bait him and she didn't argue. "I held up my end of the bargain," she said. "Now hold up yours."

Sam hesitated. "How did you know where to find me?" he said. "Why you? If I can get people out of hell, why isn't there a line-up?"

"Hell's a big place," she said. "I guess I was in the right place at the right time. We had a deal, Sam Winchester."

That was all he was going to squeeze out of this deal, and given the terms it was more than he had any right to expect. "I'm not sure how to--"

"Just do it," she snapped. Sam closed eyes that weren't really there and dug deep to where he knew his powers lay and found the faint trail back out of hell. It really was like a push, choosing his target and sending her along that trail. What happened after that Sam couldn't be sure, but when he opened his eyes again she was gone.

She was gone and Sam was just as alone as he had been before, even if he was surrounded on all sides by tormented souls.

:::

After a while it was hard to remember a time before he heard screaming, thrashing, moaning, wailing, all around him. There were too many and they were too far gone, dotting the landscape, suspended in the air, buried beneath his feet.

He tried talking to them, he tried asking for help, but no one was home. It was like trying to hold a conversation with a corpse.

"Not getting anywhere, are we?"

This time the voice in his ear came with a body, just behind his shoulder and radiating intense heat, standing upon the skulls of strangers.

"I need more time," he muttered, not quite to him, not quite not to him either.

"Oh, you've got all the time in the world," he said, his voice smoky and slick. "But does your brother?" Sam whirled around. "You think I don't know who you are? You think we all don't know who Sam and Dean Winchester are?"

"So you're just the lucky demon who got here first?" Or second, as the case may be.

"Something like that," he said, tilting his chin up and meeting Sam's eyes without a flicker of hesitation. "Someone had to be first. Might was well be me."

Sam saw his future stretching before him, endless conversations with endless demons, constantly distracted and never reaching his goal. He could get caught doing this till the end of time.

"Is this how you get your kicks? Isn't there something more entertaining to do down here?" he said, veering off that road.

"This is hell, not Six Flags," he said. "There's very little more interesting down here than watching little Sammy Winchester try to unchain his brother from hell. Give it a little time and we can sell tickets. What do you think, two new twisted souls in return for a glimpse of the spectacle?"

"You're lying," he said, but there was a flicker of uncertainty, that maybe the real reason no one was trying to stop him because they knew he was doomed to failure. That all the demons of hell were just waiting for him to take his place next to his brother.

"Maybe," he said, "but you're going to ask for my help anyway."

"I think I've had just about enough of demons helping me," said Sam, but he couldn't say he didn't need it. It was funny how hell made the lies all the sharper. "It's never worth the price."

" _Is_ there a price you wouldn't pay to save your brother?" he said. "I can help you find him."

"Show me."

"There's not exactly a new arrivals gate," he said. "I can't point out a waiting room."

"Then you're no use to me," he said, and started walking away.

"But I can tell you what signs to look for," the demon said to Sam's back. "You can tell when you get close."

Sam paused. "How?"

He just twisted his lips in a smile. "It's a precious bit of information," he said. "What price _would_ you pay?"

Demons lie, demons _lie_ , but what would this lie accomplish here, when Sam was already lost, alone, struggling to figure out his way to his brother's side? Leading him in the wrong direction would do nothing, it would be a waste of time, an idle bit of entertainment. And leading him in the _right_ direction would....

"Tell me what you want, and I'll tell you if you'll get it."

"I know the deal you made with Scarlet," he said. "I want the same."

Of course he already knew that was a price Sam was willing to pay. He had a bad feeling about it, still, always, but much worse deals had been made in the past. Worse deals had been made by Winchesters in the past.

"Same deal, same conditions," said Sam. "It's a round-trip ticket. I let you out of here, but I hunt you back down again."

"You can try," he said. "Once I'm out of here, the future is unwritten."

Unwritten, unless Sam's visions returned with the rest of his abilities.

Sam knew what happened next, with the cold certainty that when this was all over this guy would be the first to make the return trip. He and Dean would be unstoppable.

"Deal," said Sam, and offered his hand.

"We don't need that down here," he said. "A deal's a deal, and the deal is made."

One day soon those deals were going to weigh heavily on Sam's shoulders, but not so heavily as the loss of his brother. People ran around saying they'd move heaven and earth for their loved ones. Sam wondered where hell factored into that promise.

"Tell me where to find him."

"Not where," he said. " _How_. Physical space is irrelevant, or haven't you figured that out yet?"

Physical space might have been irrelevant, but Sam was still using his five senses, or what his mind told him were his five senses, and he could see-hear-smell-taste-feel hell all around him. And what his senses were telling him was that it was a real, physical space filled with the tortured dead.

"He could be anyone."

"Those new to hell are afraid, they're fighting, they're still looking for a way out. They aren't resigned to the torture that awaits them here. You can sense their fight."

"You don't seem particularly tortured."

"I'm on fire as I speak to you," he said, in the same tone he might've used to discuss the weather. "My skin feels like it's cracking. My eyes feel like they're melting. But I've been feeling it for more years than you can count."

Sam closed his eyes as though it could block out the image of Dean going through the same hell.

"You can't tell me you've stopped fighting," said Sam. "None of you ever stop fighting to get out."

"No," he said, "we just find more clever ways to go about it."

"I'm not on fire."

"You don't belong here," he said, "and you're not under anyone else's dominion. Yet."

It was that yet that haunted him, Sam remembering every warning that had been given to him before he'd taken the trip down. Don't forget yourself. Don't trust anyone.

"How do I find Dean?" he said again.

"Look for the fight," he said. "No, not with your _eyes_. You're the man with the mojo, Sam, look with your _head_. You'll see what you need to see."

And when he put it that way, when Sam looked out at the vast landscape - yes, with his eyes wide open - he could see a pocket where the turmoil was greater, where the sound seemed louder, where there was still a fight going on.

He wondered how long it took before it stopped.

"There," he said, pointing needlessly, pointing at nothing. "There, that's where I need to go."

"If you say so," he said, "though it's not a _where_. That's just how you perceive it."

Sam didn't need a philosophy lesson in the geography of hell.

"Well, since my perception's all I have to go on, how about you tell me how to get from where I am to where he is."

"In your head," he said. "Close your eyes if keeping them open is too complicated for you."

It wasn't complicated, it was _confusing_ , vast spaces and overlapping images of everything Sam ever imagined hell to be. He closed his eyes and _pulled_ and imagined himself to be where he needed to be. And when he opened his eyes again he was there.

Sam had found someone, but it wasn't Dean. He looked at the demon accusingly.

"Your brother's not the only new arrival in hell," he said, looking up at Sam with no further explanation and no apology.

"Then how am I supposed to find him?"

"The hard way," he said. "You need to check them all."

Sam's hell was an eternity of burning flesh and boiling blood, looking for Dean's tortured face and never finding it. There was more than one way to be alone.

"You need to do better than that."

"No, I don't," he said. "I gave you what you asked for. A deal's a deal." But he met Sam's eyes and gave him one last smirk. "Look for an audience," he offered, and Sam knew it wasn't altruism. "A lot like yours."

"I don't have an audience."

"Oh, is that what you think?" he said. "You may not see them, Sam Winchester, but they're starting to see you. Not everyone's looking in the wrong place. Now fulfill your part of the deal."

It was easier this time but it still strained him, put stress on a brain and limbs that Sam knew _weren't really there_ but hurt all the same. He'd gotten all he could out of him, he knew that, but it still hurt to let him go before he had everything he needed.

 _A deal was a deal. If Sam never heard that word again it would be too soon._

 _It was all too easy to turn his back on the poor soul in front of him, screaming in agonies that Sam couldn't even imagine. He wasn't Dean, and Sam had a goal, and no stranger was going to sway him from it now._

 _He looked out at hell again and saw other pockets of turmoil, other places his brother could be. He didn't care what the demon had told him, they _were_ places, stretched out across a vast dimension, separated from him by gulfs of fear and despair. Hell was a place unlike all other places; Sam had just learned to travel it now._

You said once that you would know your brother anywhere, Sam reminded himself. It's time to put your money where your mouth is.

The one constant in all of hell was the sky, endless and grey like those pre-dawn mornings when Sam watched the world pass by from the back seat of the Impala and wondered what it would be like to get away from that life. It felt just as heavy, made searching for Dean feel even more like trying to spot that proverbial needle in a haystack. But Sam hadn't surrendered to it then, and he wouldn't now.

There was one place among all places where there was a gathering darkness, like a poisonous cloud smothering a volcano, and the more the volcano spewed, the larger the cloud became. An audience, the demon had said. This was an audience. This was the demons of hell clustering around his brother, watching his eternal torment.

A torment that would not be eternal, not if Sam had any say in it. He didn't even have to close his eyes to travel the distance this time.

He'd found Dean, and Dean was screaming.

:::

"Dean," he said, standing by his side, standing on _nothing_ , watching as Dean tore himself apart and not knowing where he could even touch, how he could let him know he was there at all. "Dean!"

"He can't hear you."

The voice emerged from the general hum that Sam was hearing in the back of his mind, and Sam might've been getting very tired of voices in his ear but felt a ridiculous quiver of hope anyway that maybe all help wasn't gone after all.

"You must be the ghost of Christmas yet to come."

"You can call me whatever you like, as long as you get me out of the pit."

Sam was only half paying attention, calling out to his brother again, but Dean didn't even twitch at Sam's voice, his skin bubbling, his scream almost constant. Sam might as well not have been there at all.

"How do I get through to him?"

"Why should I tell you?" she said. "Once you do that, we lose the best thing to happen to hell in a century. This is even better than dear old dad."

"Shut up!" said Sam, and touched his brother's bloody skin.

"I guess you don't want the answer as badly as I thought you did," she said mildly, the voice melting back into the cloud again.

"Wait," said Sam. He could _feel_ her waiting, and maybe he was getting the hang of this hell thing, just in time to get out again. "Do you know how I can get him out of here?"

"Yes."

"What do you want?"

"You know what I want," she said. "You gave it to Scarlet. You gave it to Amory. Now you can give it to me."

"I'm going to hunt you all down when I get back topside," he vowed through gritted teeth, feeling Dean's screams down to his non-existent bones.

"If it wasn't you, it would be someone else," she said. "Do we have a deal?"

"We have a deal," said Sam, and once again felt the bottom of his stomach fall out as the deal was sealed, more decisively than if it had been signed in blood. "Tell me."

"He can't hear you because he's chained to hell, Sam Winchester. He sees only what he thinks he'll see, hears only what he thinks he'll hear, experiences only the greatest torments his mind can imagine."

"Stop," said Sam, squeezing his eyes shut. But that didn't help anymore, it didn't change anything. Closing your eyes in hell didn't stop you from seeing. "Just stop."

"Don't need that much detail?" she said, her tone touched with malevolent amusement. "Let me give it to you in small words. You have the power to get inside people's minds, whether those minds are attached to bodies or not. You need to get inside his."

"How do I know you're telling me the truth?"

"You don't," she said, "but once you go in there, you're either both coming out, or you're not coming out at all."

This was it, do or die time, and Sam nodded his head. He didn't ask for more, didn't ask if she was ready, didn't ask for anything at all. He just met her eyes and _pushed_ and she was gone, slipped out through the tiny crack he'd left and back on earth to do her worst. Sam wouldn’t think about what that was going to be until he had to.

Then he took Dean's face into his hands, ignoring the feel of charred flesh under his fingers, looked into his unseeing eyes and slipped inside.

If Sam thought his vision of hell was bad, Dean's was worse. He was alone, as alone as Sam had been, trapped in a turbulent vastness that outstripped even Sam's own imagination, suspended by chains in his skin. Dean's hell was straight out of Hellraiser, and Sam felt like throwing up.

"Dean," he said, right by his ear, Dean looking in the other direction, eyes frantic and calling Sam's name. "Dean it's me, it's Sam!"

"You aren't Sam--Sam's safe--Sam's not here--Sam wouldn't be here--Sam wouldn't come--I told Sam not to come--who are you--what do you want with me--Sam's not here--Sam's safe--"

"I came for you," he said. "I came for you, Dean."

"Sam's safe!" he shouted. "Shut up! Shut up! Sam's safe!"

Sam suddenly realized he hadn't been the only person whispering things in Dean's ear since he'd arrived in hell.

"Fuck you," he said. "Fuck you and _look_ at me, Dean. Look at me!"

"Shut up shut up shut up," he said. "You can have me but you can't have Sam. Sam's safe, Sammy's safe, Sammy's safe."

And this was it, this was all that stood in his way now, this was his last chance. If he couldn't get through to Dean inside his own head, there was nothing left to try. Dean would stay in hell and Sam would stay with him, right here, for eternity. Sam would be chained in front of him and Dean would have to watch it, but at least they would be here together. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be here together, maybe they _belonged_ here together.

Sam watched his fingers begin to smoke, his hand, his wrist, and suddenly words he hadn't meant to forget started running in an endless loop in his head, _Remember who you are, you are Sam, this is Dean, you don't belong here, remember who you are--_

He didn't belong here, and neither did Dean, and the oppressive hopelessness of hell was not going to make him forget that.

Unchain him, they all said, unchain him, over and over, every one of them, and there _were_ chains, but like everything else in this godforsaken land they weren't real. Dean was bound to hell by a construct of his own mind, and _that_ was what Sam needed to get through.

If Dean saw chains, real chains, then to Dean's mind those were what Sam was going to have to break before he could get free.

If there was one thing Sam had learned over the past couple of days, it was how to break through the unbreakable. "Brace yourself," he muttered, as if Dean was capable of doing any such thing, and one by one he touched the chains, made them wither and snap and melt under the force of his mind. And with each one, Dean grew quieter and quieter, right up to the last one which twisted and fought back until Sam finally defeated it with an audible groan and snap.

When Dean fell, it was into Sam's waiting arms.

For a moment there was nothing but wind and silence, then finally, finally, Dean gritted his teeth and turned his head and looked Sam in the eye.

"What took you so long?" he said, through lips that were cracked and blackened.

"I'm sorry," said Sam. "I'm sorry, God, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. It took a couple days to--"

"A couple of days?" said Dean, and his laugh was terrifying. "A couple of _days_?"

 _Time's funny in hell_ , Ruby'd told him, and God, Sam hadn't wanted to believe it. One day he would ask, he wouldn't be able to help himself, but not now, not until they were safe. Until they were out of here, Sam didn't want to know.

"I came as fast as I could," he said. "I'm bringing you home, Dean."

"Home," he repeated, and it chilled Sam to see that expression on Dean's face, like he wasn't quite sure what that word meant anymore.

Sam had control now, it was _his_ reality that was dominant, and with the slightest pull they were back outside of Dean's. Dean looked like he was dead in Sam's arms all over again, gashes to his chest and blood everywhere, and Sam didn't know if this was how Dean looked inside his head or if this was Dean's actual spiritual form, or if it even really mattered.

The murmur that he'd been hearing in the back of his head ever since arriving at Dean's side grew louder and louder, like the sound of a wave approaching shore. The _audience_. Everything had been happening inside Dean's mind, but now that they were back word was getting out what Sam had done, and if they didn't get out of here soon things were about to get a whole lot harder. Lilith's distraction, and Sam's emerging powers, could only take them so far.

"Whatever you do, don't let go," he said, wrapping both arms around Dean's tortured body and closing his eyes and using every ounce of the strength inside his head to take them up and out, following the breadcrumbs of his consciousness through the tiny opening he'd left behind.

:::

Bobby was already chanting over the bed of his truck when Sam sat straight up and took a deep gulp of breath, looking around wildly until he was sure he was where he was supposed to be. Where he'd used every last bit of his mental power to end up.

"You look like you've been through hell, Sam," Ruby drawled in Dean's voice.

"Is he in there?" said Sam frantically. "Is he _in there_?"

"Yeah, he's in here," said Ruby, rolling his eyes, "and he's _pissed_. Are you sure you don't want to stick with me a little longer?"

Bobby was still chanting in the background, the demon in Ruby's body - God, Sam had never even bothered to find out anything about it, but it was too late for that now - thrashing and swearing at him.

"Go home, Ruby," he said, struggling to focus on what he was doing, his head hurting so badly it was almost blinding. He'd opened the floodgates of his mind, but there were some things that were still too much to bear and apparently pulling Dean out of hell and closing the door behind them was one of them.

She waited till the demon was spilling from the mouth of her former body, and just enough longer than that to make Sam worry they were doing to have to exorcise her too, then she gave Sam one last smirk before Dean's head tilted back and thick black smoke started spilling from his mouth.

"Take your brother!" shouted Bobby, as Sam watched in horror as Dean's wounds started to bleed again. "Get him to the hospital, Sam, he's dying."

That was all it took to jar Sam into action, ripping off his shirt to bind the worst of Dean's wounds as fast as he could and getting him into the back of the Impala. He didn't think anyone had ever made the trip from Bobby's place to the nearest hospital faster, and they'd made that trip a lot of times over the years.

"Bear attack," he said, carrying Dean in his arms like he weighed nothing and rushing him past everyone else in the emergency room. He barely even noticed they were there. "You've got to help him."

After that it was all out of his hands, doors slamming in his face and strong hands urging him into a chair in the waiting room. Sam normally didn't wait well but the moment he was sitting in that chair he passed out before they could even ask for his information.

:::

When Sam woke up again he was on a bed in an examining room with a warm blanket over him.

"You made quite a spectacle of yourself," said someone on his left, and with some effort Sam turned his head and opened his eyes the rest of the way to see who it was, to see that it was a real person in a real place and he really had brought Dean home. "Feeling better?"

Sam just shook his head. "Dean?"

"The young man you came in with?"

"My brother," he got out, still struggling with his renewed consciousness.

"Still in surgery," she said, efficiently but not unkindly. "I need to check your vitals now that you're back with us."

"What--?" said Sam, shaking his head again, unsure of how he'd ended up in a hospital bed. "No, Dean...."

"Looks like your brother wasn't the only one who went through quite the ordeal," she said, reaching for his arm. "You passed out right in the middle of the waiting room, cracked your head on the floor."

Sam probably wouldn't even have noticed, the pain from their escape from hell still throbbing through the inside of his skull. It was a miracle he even made it to the hospital, but he wasn't going to have gone through all that just to wreck the car ten miles from help.

"Do you have any family you need to contact?"

Sam shook his head as she checked his pulse, his blood pressure, the pupils of his eyes. Bobby would be showing up when everything else was taken care of, and there was no one else to call.

"We'll need to get your information as soon as you're feeling up to it."

"Uncle Bobby's on his way," Sam told her, and hoped to God Bobby had it covered because Sam'd had other things on his mind. "He'll give you everything you need."

"Well, it looks like you're as fit as can be expected," she said a few moments later. "Do you think you can take a seat in the waiting room this time without falling over?"

Part of Sam wanted to curl up right there and sleep forever, but not until he knew Dean was going to be all right. He pushed the blanket off and nodded his head slowly, mindful of the pounding, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

She gave him her arm, but he was steady on his feet almost immediately and waved off the offer of a wheelchair. "When will I hear anything about Dean?"

"As soon as they're finished in surgery, someone will come talk to you," she promised him, but Sam had heard that before, in a dozen hospitals in a dozen different states under a dozen different names. If he'd had more energy than it took just to walk from an examining room back into the waiting room, he would've been poking around the minute someone's back was turned.

As it was, he did exactly what they asked him to do. He sat down and waited and was forced, now that he was conscious with nothing more pressing to do, to relive just what they'd been through over the past few days.

Sam looked at a coaster abandoned next to the magazines on the waiting room table, made it slide across the table to the opposite corner, and reluctantly admitted that there was no putting the genie back in the bottle again. That door would not be closed, but he'd worry about what that meant after he'd gotten some rest.

He had his head in his hands when the doctor finally came back out into the waiting room again. He wasn't covered in blood, but Sam didn't know if that was a good sign or a bad sign. He didn't know how many more times he could go through this, how many more times he could let Dean die, but somehow each time he kept on going.

He looked up and said nothing.

"It was touch and go there for a while," he said. "Your brother lost a lot of blood. But he's a fighter and it looks like he's going to pull through."

"He's okay?" said Sam. "He's okay?"

"He's not out of the woods yet," said the doctor, "but it looks promising. You can see him if you want, but we don't expect him to wake up for a while yet. He's pretty heavily drugged."

"I want to see him," said Sam. No, he _needed_ to see him. The doctor couldn't know it, but Sam had seen Dean so, so much worse than this. Just seeing him breathing was all he asked.

"He looks pretty bad--"

"I brought him in," said Sam, already standing up. "It can't be any worse than that."

And it wasn't, though it was a close thing. Dean wasn't bleeding but he was pale and swollen and bruised, and Sam'd seen his brother close to death before but it had never seemed quite as close as this. He took a seat next to the bed and took Dean's hand and _dared_ anyone to move him before he was ready.

It was quite a while before anyone even tried.

:::

By the time Bobby showed up, Sam had finally been ushered into a different waiting room. They said it was to let his brother rest, but Dean was resting just fine whether there was anyone in the room or not, and _Sam_ would rest better if they just let him stick by his brother's side.

"I hear he pulled through," said Bobby, taking a seat in the hard plastic chair at Sam's side.

"If I never see my brother in a coma again, it'll be too soon," said Sam without looking up. "You've talked to the doctor?"

"Heard through administration when I took care of your paperwork," said Bobby, and right there was another reason for Sam to breathe a sigh of relief. "How is he?"

Sam shrugged a little, unsure of what to say, but Dean was _alive_ and right now that was the most important thing. "He's going to hang in there," he said, then fell silent for a few more moments. "Thanks, Bobby."

Bobby just grunted, but Sam knew it for what it was. "You can thank me by not putting me through this ever again," he said.

"Not really planning to," said Sam. "How are things back at your place, Bobby? I didn't even really--"

"Nothing that can't be fixed," said Bobby, but he was shaking his head and looking at Sam out of the corner of his eye. "Why is it that every time one of you Winchesters gets out of hell, you bring half the place with you?"

"What are you--?" started Sam, but he knew what Bobby was talking about. He already knew.

"Three times someone came through that crack before you, Sam, and there was nothing I could do about it," said Bobby. "You wanna tell me what that was all about?"

"Not really," Sam admitted, looking down again. "We'll take care of it."

"Damn right you will," said Bobby. "Dammit, Sam, I know this isn't the time but I _told_ you to be careful."

"I was careful," said Sam. "There were only three of them."

" _Only_ three of them," said Bobby in disbelief. "You weren't ready. You weren't prepared for what they would trick you with."

"They didn't trick me, Bobby," said Sam. "I just did what I had to do." Bobby's silence was more telling than anything he could've said right then, and Sam knew he deserved it. But if he had it to do all over again he would've done the exact same thing. "I got Dean back."

The silence stretched for a few more moments. "One day you're going to have to tell me exactly what that entailed," he said finally. But that meant he was leaving it for now, and Sam was grateful.

"How long was I gone?" Sam asked him out of the blue, just after a woman in salmon scrubs rushed past them and through a set of doors that separated them from everything that was happening.

"About fifteen minutes, all told," said Bobby, looking at him like he knew exactly why Sam was asking. It felt like a hell of a lot more than fifteen minutes to Sam, that was for damn sure. He closed his eyes, and a moment later he felt Bobby's hand squeezing his shoulder.

"You know he's going to be different," said Bobby after a few more minutes had passed. "Hell changes a man, Sam."

"All kinds of things change a man," said Sam. Living without Dean had _felt_ like hell, and Sam sure as hell knew it had changed him. "We can handle it."

"You boys always think you can handle everything," said Bobby. "You bring him back to my place when he gets out, you hear me? There's always a place there for you boys, no matter what damn fool shit you get yourselves into."

Sam wondered if Bobby knew how much the two of them counted on that, and promised himself right then and there that they'd never take it for granted again. Bobby'd really gone above and beyond on this one, which was saying a lot.

After about twenty minutes of weary, semi-comfortable silence between them, Bobby got up and talked to someone at the nurses' station for a few minutes.

When they next showed Sam into Dean's room, there was a more comfortable chair in the corner and a hospital-issue blanket and pillow on it. Sam wanted to thank Bobby but he didn't know how.

"You coming inside?" he asked instead, keeping his voice soft and looking back over his shoulder.

"Nah, you boys need some time to yourselves," he said, lingering just inside the doorway and taking a long look at Dean, "and I've got some cleaning up to do. I'll call you tomorrow, Sam."

"You know where to find me," said Sam, taking up his seat right next to Dean's bed again. The comfortable chair would be there when he needed it, and no one was sending him anywhere else this time.

:::

Dean woke up after two long days, disoriented and in a lot of pain but _there_. He recognized Sam and he recognized Bobby and most of the time he seemed to know where he was. The rest of the time, Sam could blame on the painkillers and only wonder a little bit if it was something else. And yeah, there was still a hell of a road ahead of them, but they would be on it together.

Only when Dean had slipped into a deep, _natural_ , sleep did Sam finally leave the hospital, leaving Dean under Bobby's watchful eye, to shower and change and get together some things that Dean would be needing.

"You'll want to take care of that pet demon of yours," Bobby added before Sam left the hospital, and sure enough, when Sam arrived back at the salvage yard Ruby was there, sitting on top of one of the cars, legs stretched out in front of her and back in the body Sam recognized as hers.

"There's the man of the hour," she said dryly as Sam got out of the car, pausing by the open door to stare at her. "It's about time you remembered about me."

"I thought Bobby would've taken care of it," he admitted, though if he'd thought about it he should've known he wouldn't have. This was Sam's to take care of, no matter what he chose to do. "Dean pulled through, thanks for asking."

"Of course he did," she said, and looked pointedly at the giant sigil on the ground until Sam found one of the edges and smeared it with his toe, gave her a way out. Bobby wouldn't do it but Sam had no choice. She'd kept her word.

As she calmly and deliberately stepped outside the circle, Sam had the uneasy feeling that she could have broken the devil's trap any time she wanted.

"You sacrificed a lot to get him out of there, didn't you?" she said. "Bobby knows what you did, Sam. Does Dean?

"What are you--?"

"That's three more demons you've got to track down now," she said. "You've got a lot of work ahead of you."

"Nothing Dean and I can't handle."

"Are you sure about that?" she said. "Scarlet's got a bit of a vicious streak she has trouble keeping under control. Amory's a master of not being found when he doesn't want to be. And Regan... well, the less said about her the better. Hell hasn't been kind to her."

"What, do you subscribe to a demon newsletter I don't know about?" said Sam. "How do you know who they were?"

"You think I don't keep tabs on my old friends?" she said. "I know exactly who you let out of hell, Sam. Good work."

Sam suddenly felt very, very cold. Dean had told him all about who Ruby told him she was, how she'd ended up in hell. A witch, he'd said. A witch who sold her soul to a demon. Until that moment, until she smiled at the thought of her old friends, Sam hadn't given one single bit of thought to what happened to the _rest_ of her coven.

"What's the matter, Sam? You got what you wanted. I got what I wanted. It all worked out in the end."

"What you wanted was to get demons out of hell."

"Only a few," she said. "The rest I still want to send back, just like you."

"You're nothing like me."

"Oh, I’m _everything_ like you, Sam. We both wanted to get people out of hell that we didn't think belonged there. You're just pissed off because you know that I'm right."

"You never cared about your body, did you?"

"This old thing?" she said, looking down at it. "It's nice. I'm not sorry I have it back."

"You wanted me to think that's what you wanted."

"You believed what you wanted to believe," she said. "A meat suit in exchange for your brother's soul? _Really_ , Sam?"

"You lied to me," he said. It shouldn't have been a surprise, it should never have been a surprise, and maybe he should've listened every time someone reminded him that above all else, no matter what else she did, Ruby was a demon.

"No," she said, "I've never lied to you, you just never asked the right questions. We still want the same thing, Sam. We still want to see Lilith back in hell."

"The next time I see you I'm going to kill you."

"No, you're not," she said. "Because the enemy of your enemy is your friend. You still need me."

"If I don't, then Dean will."

"We'll see," she said, and looked him up and down. "See you around, Sam."

Sam let her go, because this one time he didn't have a choice. Dean was back from hell and without her it wouldn't have happened. They had a deal.

But soon enough he and Dean would be back on the road again, and the next time they saw Ruby, all bets were off.


End file.
